


Musketeers worry too much

by tashaxxxxxx



Series: A Sister and her Brothers [14]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tashaxxxxxx/pseuds/tashaxxxxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos is a worrier, Porthos is a teacher, Aramis is a mother hen and D'artagnan sometimes wishes they would just leave him alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musketeers worry too much

D’artagnan enjoyed the company of his three friends. Really he did. They made him feel like he was part of a family, something he needed after the death of his Father. The Musketeers had even given him a home, a well-paid and exciting job. Except D’artagnan couldn’t help but find his three friends extremely overbearing at times. 

Athos was arguably the worst. He worried. Worried when D’artagnan as injured. Worried when he was missing. Worried when he was literally sitting at his desk doing nothing. Maybe Athos did have reason to worry. The young Gascon had proved himself to be able to get injured or hurt in any type of circumstance. Though the constant worrying did grate on D’artagnan nerves more than usual. Especially when Athos refused to let D’artagnan do something in a mission that cause injury. 

Aramis wasn’t a worrier but she was a complete and utter mother hen. It helped a little that whenever Athos and Porthos were injured or needed help she would pounce on them but being the youngest had made D’artagnan an easier target for her mothering. She would phone to check on him, stitch his shirts, appear at his flat on the pretence of a social call and end up complaining about the state of the place. Maybe D’artagnan found some of it comforting, like her skill with injuries which were nearly, if not better than some doctors D’artagnan knew. But the constant mothering could be a little embarrassing at times. 

Porthos was the better of the two of them. He didn’t worry like Athos or coddle him like Aramis. But at the same time he would constantly be making D’artagnan practice. Practice fighting, practice shooting. He got the help of Aramis and Athos both and D’artagnan would soon find himself on the range with Aramis and Porthos in the background watching with a careful eye or on the mats with Athos and Porthos shouting instructions from the side line. He wanted to learn, really he did. But the constant eye of Porthos on him while he did it made him hate those times they didn’t have an assignment. 

…………………………………………………

For the last three days, D’artagnan had been with a known criminal Vadim. The man had come onto the musketeer’s radar when he started making purchases of a number of weapons and Treville had sent their team to find out what he was doing. It had been D’artagnan’s idea that he should be the one to infiltrate Vadim’s quarters and Athos hadn’t been happy about it. The man had argued but finally Aramis and Porthos managed to persuade him that D’artagnan really was the only person who could do it and maybe get away with it. It was the ‘maybe’ bit that had Athos worrying though. 

Except now he really wished he’d listened to Athos. Vadim had figured out he was a spy, somehow, and now D’artagnan was tied next to a bomb that was due to go off at any minute. The ties were plastic and he was trying desperately to snap them, only succeeding at scraping his wrists bloody. Shit.   
The plans that Vadim had given him had been completely wrong and now none of his friends knew where he was. A cold sinking fear filled D’artagnan as he pulled frantically at his wrists, using all of the brute strength that Porthos had hammered into him from the training sessions. Finally they snapped and not a moment too soon. D’artagnan jumped to his feet, stamping on the fire before the bomb went off.   
………………………..  
The bombs were duds and the weapons were to. Athos cursed as Aramis and Porthos gathered around. Treville was getting the dignitaries that they had presumed Vadim was after to safety. “Where?” Aramis had a hint of panic in her voice, knowing that D’artagnan was most likely with Vadim right now. Possibly dead. 

“Vadim never wanted to kill anyone.” Athos said, his mind racing through everything they knew about the man. Then suddenly something clicked and he cursed out loud. “He wanted to rob the vaults.” Athos shouted, running away from the street with Aramis and Porthos following closely. The vaults in Paris were where a lot of money and old artefacts, like old jewellery, were kept. The contents was worth millions maybe more. 

“We need to get there now.” Porthos said just as a loud explosion rippled through Paris. 

………………………………..

D’artagnan was thrown across the hall. He’d managed to open the door, only to have the bomb relight. Of course he’d tried to stop the different bits of fire making their way to the bomb but finally he had to admit defeat and run like hell out of the room. He’d managed to get clear enough to avoid serious injury but he was still thrown by the force of the explosion. 

The smoke and the ringing in his ear made him lie there for a few minutes until he was able to get his bearings again. When he stood up it was on wobbling legs and he may have collapsed again if not for the fact that he knew he was to stop Vadim. Feeling the rush of adrenalin in his system, D’artagnan staggered away from the exploded corridor. 

He found Vadim laden down with bags of money and riches. The man didn’t seem to notice him there so D’artagnan quietly jumped at the other man. Vadim lurched out of the way but D’artagnan managed to get a hold of the knife in the mans’ pocket. 

Fighting close quarters with a man was something he’d been learning to do with Porthos and he thanked the other man silently as he ducked Vadim’s wild hits. He even managed to get a few in himself. Finally he managed to get a hit with the knife, which went through Vadim’s stomach. The older man staggered away and D’artagnan was just about to follow when a shout came from behind him. 

Athos, Aramis and Porthos ran up towards him identical looks of worry and relief crossing their faces. “Where is Vadim?” Athos asked and D’artagnan motioned for them to follow him. 

Vadim had made it outside, clutching the wound in his stomach. By the time the four caught up however, he had collapsed in a heap on the floor. Aramis went over to him, feeling for a pulse. When she found one she shook her head, murmuring a small prayer for the dead man. 

Seeing Vadim dead, D’artagnan felt the surge of adrenalin leave his body and it was all he could do not to collapse on the floor. On seeing the pale pallor of D’artagnan’s skin Athos called over to Aramis, wrapping a supporting arm around D’artagnan’s waist. “Where are you hurt?” Aramis asked. 

“Side.” D’artagnan grunted a little as Aramis pressed at the bruised area. 

“I’d say 3 broken ribs. What happened?” She asked. 

“I was the own across the room when the bomb went off.” Both Athos and Aramis paled as he said this, realising that D’artagnan had probably been very close to the bomb when it went off. 

“Any hearing problems?” 

“Just a ringing but it’s gone now.” Mostly, D’artagnan said silently in his head. 

“You need a hospital.” Athos said, worryingly and D’artagnan protested quickly. He didn’t want a hospital. Just wanted his own bed. 

“Aramis said its’ not that bad and she is a trained medic.” Porthos told Athos and he nodded his head in consent.

The ride back to D’artagnan’s flat was painful and Athos kept sending him worried glances at the pained expression on the young mans’ face. Porthos and Athos helped him out of the car, while Aramis opened the door for them. 

“Shirt off.” Aramis said when they entered the flat. D’artagnan did so, though it was painful. He hands went over the bruises, causing D’artagnan to gasp painfully. Athos looked like he wanted to pull Aramis away but stayed put.

“3 broken ribs and your lungs have been bruised.” Aramis finally said, lifting up his wrists which had most of the skin rubbed off thanks to the cuffs. She grabbed some bandages and water, cleaning the cuts gently before wrapping the bandages around D’artagnan’s wrists. “You should get some rest.” Aramis finally said, motioning for Porthos to help D’artagnan up. 

He didn’t fight as the three got him situated into bed, mumbling a thank you as he drifted off to sleep. D’artagnan knew they’d still be there come morning but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sure they annoyed him with their constant worrying and mothering but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> These last updates are mostly short as I don’t want to make them overly long. Anyway hope you enjoy and as always please review and say if there are any particular one shots you would like to see.


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